My Immortal
by its-amagicalplace
Summary: Agent Phil Coulson receives a new mission: looking into the unexplainable return of people long thought to be dead. Can he balance the weirdest case he's ever faced, an already precarious engagement to his fiancé, and a new team of agents, all whilst being haunted by the demons of his past? (Resurrection!AU) (Warnings for death, violence, language etc.)
1. Chapter 1

Phil sat back in his office chair, and threw the report he'd been reading onto the desk in front of him, letting it join the growing pile of paperwork he had been putting off doing for far too long. The clock on the wall ahead of him read almost 23:00 hours, and Phil sighed. Audrey would be finishing her performance around this time, and he was supposed to have been there to watch. It wasn't the first time he'd missed one of her recitals, and he knew that given this job, it wouldn't be the last either, but each time he did he felt that familiar wash of guilt tainting the job he loved. Things might be easier if Audrey knew the full extents of what he did each day, but given the sensitive nature of the organisation, she was mostly left in the dark, meaning she got more and more annoyed when all he could tell her was "he was busy".

He would have been there tonight too, and had literally been about to walk out of the doors until an urgent memo from Director Fury had called him away from his plans. He was used to having priority reports sent down, and he was used to reading about the strange happenings that they dealt with day in and day out. But what he had not been prepared for was what was right in front of him. Phil undid his top button and loosened his tie, before picking the report up once more, and his tired eyes scanned the pages quickly, desperate to find something he'd missed the last four times he'd read it. Something that could explain what on earth was going on.

The report was focused on three individuals across the United States, who had apparently, quoting the report, "returned from the dead". To anybody else reading it, they would have laughed, instant disbelief clouding their minds. If he didn't work for SHIELD, Phil also would have automatically dismissed the claims in front of him as nonsense. Something completely illogical and definitely not possible. But he knew first hand that sometimes, there were means to carry out even the most impossible seeming tasks.

Dying had always been a possibility doing this job; Phil had known that the day he signed up. But even so, getting stabbed through the chest by a warrior from another realm was not exactly how he thought it would happen for him. Loki's sceptre had pierced his heart, and Phil could recall nothing about dying except telling Fury he was clocking out. So when he had then opened his eyes to find out he had been basically resurrected, even he was in shock. That kind of thing, it should not have been possible. Death was meant to be final. It always had been.

When you died, you never came back. Phil knew that.

Or he thought he did.

He was grateful in a way, that Fury had authorised the TAHITI project to be carried out on him; he gave him a second chance at life. A chance to try and make right the things he could, and to carry on being the best agent possible. But at the same time, he was overwhelmed with a sense of unexplainable guilt – why should he have been given another go at things, when so many people were left with only memories to keep them alive. There were others who deserved to have been brought back instead. Others he would have given anything in the world to be able to see one last time.

The familiar clenching feeling Phil got every time he thought about the permanence of death for everyone but himself began to reclaim his body, and he had to shake his head to stop his mind from going back down that path.

It had taken Phil a long time to accept that Melinda was no longer there with him. To begin with, he would wake in the morning and expect everything to have been a nightmare, just unconscious thoughts fucking with his head and drawing him into the belief she was not lying next to him, breathing softly in the dawn light. He'd roll over to face her side of the bed, and momentarily hope she'd just gotten up early to practice tai-chi, that she'd come back soon and curl up against him in one of his own shirts like she did each morning, her soft hair tickling the bare skin of his shoulders, and everything would be okay again. But those delusions would be shattered when he noted how silent the apartment was, when he glanced at the pillow she once lay upon and knew it had not been slept on that night, when he went into work and his colleagues nodded sadly at him as they passed in long dimly lit corridors.

And then he knew he was alone.

It took him almost a year to accept that she had died. It had taken another four before he was able to move on in terms of relationships. He'd met Audrey by chance, one evening in a bar after she'd performed for a particularly large crowd. She'd been so filled with relief that the show was over, and he'd complimented her music, before offering to buy her a drink. He wouldn't have imagined that two years later they would be living together. He hadn't told her about Melinda until they'd been together almost eighteen months. She's suggested they move in with one another, and he'd freaked slightly; in some way he still felt like he was betraying Melinda, moving on with somebody else. But Audrey, despite being upset he had kept such a huge event in his life from her, told him that she understood, and told him they could move things forward as slowly as he wanted if it made things easier. They'd moved in a few months later. And now they were engaged.

But when reports like this landed on his desk, it didn't exactly help with his acceptance that Melinda had gone forever. And every time he thought about how much he missed her, he was filled with guilt that he was betraying Audrey.

Phil leant over and picked up the phone on his desk, hitting speed-dial 2. It rang twice before being answered.

"Coulson."

"Sir, this report -"

"I know" Fury interrupted. Phil could hear him sigh on the other end. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but there have been three separate cases now where people who are supposed to be dead have turned up in their home towns, apparently unaware they are meant to be six damn feet under."

Phil shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with his spare hand. This was madness.

"Surely there must be some kind of explanation? Maybe there was a mix up at the coroners' office or something and they weren't actually dead?"

"Two of the families of those who have returned had open-casket funerals Coulson. They watched their relatives lowered into the ground and then they've had that same person show up on the doorstep years later as though nothing has ever happened."

"That's not possible."

"I know. But there is something else…" Fury paused, and Coulson knew whatever he was about to say wasn't in the report he'd been sent. "This has come to us because each of the three returned are showing up as 0-8-4's."

"Objects of unknown origin" Coulson murmured.

This was surreal. Three people returned from the dead, and not recognised as human. He swallowed. Something about the whole case sent a shiver up his spine.

"What would you like me to do Sir?" Phil said after a moment. He knew already, and he wasn't going to like it, but he needed confirmation.

"I want you to head up the investigation into this phenomenon. Get a team together, only a select few individuals and I want to vet them personally. Look into what the hell is going on here."

"If word gets out about this, there's going to be chaos."

The events of New York had terrified people across the world; an alien invasion had been something only ever seen in works of fiction, and Phil could only imagine the reaction if news began to spread that now people were coming back to life, multiple years after death.

"This is a top secret mission. Go to each police force handling the individual incidents and take over. Debrief them. Make sure they know nothing."

"Yes Sir."

Phil groaned internally at the prospect of the next few months. A mission of this scale would mean being away from home a lot, working late, and little to no social life. Audrey was going to hate him, and he had a horrible feeling this would drive another wedge between their already precarious relationship.

He was certain he hadn't made a sound, but Fury seemed to have sensed his reluctance anyway.

"Phil….are you okay to do this?"

It was rare that Fury called Phil by his first name, usually reverting to the surname titles that most agents were addressed by. But they'd known each other for years, and Fury knew full well how hard Phil had taken Melinda's death – all agents had really, she'd been one of the best he'd ever seen - but cases involving death always triggered some kind of memory recall for Phil whether he wanted them to or not. The first name terms automatically switched their conversation from professional to personal.

"It'll be fine Nick, as long as she doesn't turn up on my doorstep too." He'd meant it as a joke, but it came out more sorrowful than intended.

"She won't."

It was in both a terrible and conflicted way that Phil hoped he was right, and wrong.

* * *

><p>Phil unlocked the apartment door as quietly as he could and crept inside, conscious of the fact that it was almost half one in the morning, and chances were Audrey would be asleep by now. As the door closed behind him, he stood in silence for a while, just listening to distant sounds of the city outside.<p>

After he'd hung up with Fury, Phil had spent the next hour or so working out the basic foundations for a team for this kind of mission. He would need people he could trust; only agents he was sure could keep their mouths closed about such a potentially huge event. He'd need a scientist or two, to help conduct any tests they may need to carry out on these so called _returned, _and to collate any data or findings they would uncover. He would also need somebody who was better at computers than he was; somebody who could do some serious digging into what had happened, who could find old news articles and scour online conspiracy forums. And finally he would need a specialist, to protect the unit, and take down one of these 0-8-4's if they appeared to present any sort of danger to the general public, or to a member of his team.

Phil walked into the kitchen, throwing his suit jacket over one of the chairs at the table as he moved; he'd removed his tie earlier, and it was stuffed into one of his pockets quite unceremoniously. His gaze caught a bowl of leftover pasta on one of the work-surfaces, covered in cling film, and he realised he'd missed dinner again. Not that he really had very much appetite. He picked the bowl up and put it in the fridge.

"You already eaten?"

Phil spun round to find Audrey watching him, leaning against the bedroom doorframe. She was wearing her usual silk pyjamas, but judging by the wide-awake look in her eyes, she hadn't been asleep.

"No" he shook his head slightly. "I'm over-hungry now anyway though…."

She nodded silently in response, and watched as he poured himself a glass of water instead. He could feel her gaze burning into his back as he moved around the room.

"You're watching me."

"You missed the show."

He knew that one was coming, and he sighed as he turned back to face her, leaning against the counter behind him.

"I know honey, and I'm sorry, but some–"

"Yeah, something came up. I know."

He watched her for a moment, not sure what else to say. She knew his job came with secrets, the inability to know exactly what he did; he'd never hidden that from her. All she knew was that SHIELD dealt with the unexplainable occurrences in the world, and that was all she could know.

"I have a new mission, something big." That was an understatement.

"You're going away?"

"Possibly, depending on what happens."

Audrey nodded again, and sighed in a way Phil had a horrible feeling was resignation.

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay." He tried to smile, but it felt empty. "I'll be in shortly."

She gave him a small nod, before leaving him alone once more.

* * *

><p>An hour later and Phil lay in the darkness, listening as Audrey's quiet breathing grew slower and slower, until he knew she had fallen asleep. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be so lucky as to drift off quickly tonight. His mind was wide awake, ideas and theories ghosting their way into his conscious thoughts.<p>

Returning from the dead was not possible. Death was final. Unless SHIELD used an unlicensed and most-likely completely illegal procedure to bring you back, of course. Phil rolled over, and let his mind expand on that thought. If SHIELD had been able to do that to him, who was to say that the procedure hadn't been replicated in some way by another organisation. Maybe these individuals who were back had also been put through something of a similar nature? If they had, then there was a serious problem, because the TAHITI project that he'd headed up had so many side-effects that it was considered unsafe, and never to be used again. If someone out there was using it, then there would be huge implications for everybody involved. Despite the technology available, they couldn't just go around resurrecting people; especially when the process involved some kind of alien compound as a form of self-healing drug.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm aiming to write 6-8 chapters for this, each around this length. <strong>

**Please let me know what you think! I really appreciate the feedback so I know what works and what doesn't in the story.**

**Thanks guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

They'd been a team for almost a week now, a group of misfits travelling across the country in a large black SUV, completely at ease with one another despite the strangeness of their assignment. Phil hadn't been sure about how well everybody would get along and work with each other, but seeing the team dynamic after only 6 days together he wondered why he'd ever been concerned.

Each member brought something different to the mission. He'd set out his parameters for a team straight away, and with the assistance of Agent Hill they had put together a group of people that hopefully, would fill every requirement for what was to come.

Fitzsimmons had been the first to be offered the chance to join him. The two scientists were considered the most promising out of the academy in years, and so Phil was only too glad to have them come along. The female half of the dynamic duo was Jemma Simmons, a biochemist with a thirst for knowledge and an insatiable desire to keep digging until she solved any problem she encountered. Leo Fitz, the second half, was an engineer who was credited with the design of multiple items of SHIELD technology, including the dendrotoxin "ICER" guns that now accompanied every agent out on a field mission. The kids were bright, but Hill had made it clear that they worked better together, so Phil had agreed to have both on his team.

Antoine Triplett had come with a high recommendation from Fury himself. The grandson of a Howling Commando, Trip had risen through SHIELD's ranks with impressive speed, clearing every course and passing every exam with flying colours. Phil had to reign himself in when it came to talking about Trip's family with him; he remembered how hard he had fawned over Steve Rogers when they had met previously, and he was not going to make that mistake again by pestering Trip about how well his grandfather knew Captain America. But anyway, Trip was also qualified in first aid, which meant he could help Jemma out with anything medical if need be.

Skye seemed to be the wildcard member of this little team. Phil had only heard about her in passing during the last few years, snippets of conversation between fellow agents discussing a young girl who had somehow managed to hack her way into SHIELD's security systems, time and time again. She had been a member of rival organisation The Rising Tide, but through his usual methods of persuasion, Fury had convinced her to switch sides, to do something for the greater good and put her exceptional computing skills to use for SHIELD instead. She'd agreed, eventually, however she was now not only one of the most gifted agents in the science division (almost as promising as Fitzsimmons themselves, which said a hell of a lot based on their joint reputation), but she was also continuing her love of rebellion by breaking protocol and dating her fellow scientist.

Coulson hadn't realised her and Jemma were a couple until the lot of them were crammed into the SUV together, and by then it was too late to do much about it.

* * *

><p>The team had already visited two out of the three reported <em>returned<em>.

The first had been a gentleman from San Francisco, who had died from a heart attack twelve years previously. He had been surfing with his brother when he'd fallen from his board, hitting his head in the process. He'd drowned, and his family had provided him an open casket funeral, with at least fifty witnesses who had been there to see his body.

The second was a female from Nevada, who had been killed in a car accident over twenty-four years ago. She had been cremated, so there were no witnesses to confirm 100% that she was dead other than the medical professionals who had been on duty on that day. Skye and Fitz were desperately searching through the archives on her laptops, to try and find some record of who signed off her death certificate.

Neither of these individuals had any recollection of what had happened to them over the last however many years. They both shared the same story though; that they had awoken in a field, miles from their original home state, knowing nothing about the fact they should have been dead, nor the passage of time since. They'd found their way back, feeling more and more anxious as they realised something was seriously wrong when they saw that places had changed, people had aged, and they were looked at as though they were ghosts.

Not one member of the team could come up with a feasible explanation for either case, but Trip had tightened the grip on his gun when the second individual's husband had shown them an old photograph taken the week before she had died; the woman in front of them looked identical, right down to a faded scar on her right arm she'd received as a child.

Phil had however debriefed both police forces, provided some mumbo-jumbo about a hallucinatory virus that their families were suffering from, hence seeing dead people, and SHIELD had officially taken over the investigation. They just had to hope that the word did not get out any more. Skye had a tracker logged onto multiple forums, searching for anything that popped relating to either case.

The only link any of them could find was that all three cases were situated in the states around the Western coast of the country. But whether that was coincidence or not, they would have to see.

"But how cool is this?" Skye said excitedly, for what felt to Phil like the hundredth time that week. He'd give the girl one thing – her enthusiasm never seemed to wane. "Like, people rising from the dead? This is horror movie levels of epic."

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"No, but seriously, it these people have truly returned then there must be some incredible medical explanation behind it." The excitement in Jemma's voice was rivalling that in Skye's although for a completely different reason. "I can't imagine how this will change the entire course of biology and research for the entire future. If we could replicate this, we could genuinely bring people back to life."

"There have been cases where people have been declared dead but actually weren't" Fitz added. "I remember reading about one where the doctor couldn't find a pulse, so called time of death and everything, but then at the funeral they actually sat up in their coffin. It scared the entire congregation half to death…metaphorically speaking," he added with an awkward laugh.

"Oh Fitz" Jemma said, shaking her head fondly at his joke.

"What you reckon Trip?" Skye asked with a grin, turning round in her seat and facing the specialist. "Reckon we could be up for a zombie apocalypse?"

"Girl, I've seen a lot of freaky shit in my time; I guess we'll just have to see how far up the scale this goes."

Phil sat in silence as they all bantered about it around him, and tried to think of anything beside the image of undead flesh-eating zombies crawling the streets. This was bad enough; that really would be a nightmare.

* * *

><p>"Could you two get a bloody room" Fitz muttered loudly, quickly walking back around the SUV and marching off towards the small convenience store opposite, his face tinged with a slight pink blush. The eruption of giggles from the other side of the car told Phil that he really didn't want to go round there and see what was going on, but he knew exactly who it was.<p>

"Skye, Simmons" he warned instead. As their boss, he really needed to keep them focused on the job and not on each other, but with very little to do now except wait for the Larson family to return home, he couldn't really blame them for trying to kill some time. He'd just rather it wasn't pressed up against his car.

They were currently about three hours out from Idaho, the location of their third returned. They had stopped for a break partly because Phil had been driving the SUV for almost ten hours and wanted a break, and partly because the team was becoming restless cooped up together in such a hot car. The sun was beating down fiercely, the temperature easily hitting the hundreds, and all five of them were in desperate need for refreshments.

"Sorry AC," Skye poked her head around the boot of the car with a grin. "I'll have another look online; see if anymore sightings have been reported on those conspiracy-theory forums."

With that she swung open the door and jumped in, grabbing one of the multiple laptops she had brought with her, and set about her task. Jemma followed a few moments later, a sheepish look on her face, and Phil ceremoniously pretended to have not noticed. He'd had his fair share of breaking the "no fraternisation policy" over the years – Melinda had been a terrible influence – so he couldn't exactly lecture anyone else on the same thing. Although, when he and Melinda had finally gotten engaged, everyone in the agency already knew about them, and even Fury had said it was "about damn time".

"Trip" he called, seeing the specialist return from the store with Fitz, who looked a lot happier now he had what looked like a half-eaten Cornetto in his hand, and a large bottle of chilled water in the other. Trip was carrying another two bags of produce, including more water, which Phil was quietly thankful for.

"Sir?"

Trip strolled over with Fitz lagging behind, warily looking round the side of the SUV to ensure his best friend was no longer making out with her girlfriend.

"The family will be waiting for us, let's get going."

Trip nodded, and the three men climbed into the car. Somehow Skye had managed to forget she'd called shotgun, and so Trip jumped into the front seat with a grin. Fitz clambered into the back, and positioned himself in between Skye and Jemma, receiving rolled eyes from both of them as he did. Phil glanced into the rear view mirror, watching him try to negotiate the argument between the two women now debating the ironic idea of zombie doctors saving lives, and hid his smile well.

* * *

><p>Their third case had a different aura surrounding it.<p>

Stepping inside the house once they arrived in Idaho, the feeling was not so much one of disbelief, which they had encountered in both the previous residences during the week, but there was a sense of joy in there as well.

Which the team agreed, was slightly heart-breaking to witness.

This case was revolving around an eight year old boy, by the name of Adam Larson. His parents, a couple who by physical appearances alone must have been nearing their seventies or eighties, told Phil and the team that he had died almost forty years ago, having fallen and hit his head whilst out playing. They had spent the next four decades in mourning, never fully accepting that they had lost their son through a simple accident.

But then six days ago, he appeared on their doorstep, dropped off by a police officer who had found him almost ten miles away in a field, and their worlds had once again imploded.

Phil knew he had never been the best at talking to children, but Skye seemed to have a natural ability for it. He'd seen that first hand when they'd stopped at a café in Nevada, and a girl no older than maybe four had been having a tantrum on the table behind them, crying her eyes out. Skye had simply turned around, and started talking to the kid, and before the exhausted parents knew it, the girl was laughing.

She and Fitz were now in the front room, squished up together on an old beige sofa, chatting away with Adam, whilst playing on a new video console his parents had bought to keep him occupied. Fitz had helped to connect it all up for them – they didn't like "all this modern technology". The kid had never seen anything like it, which only furthered the team's confusion and concern over what was going on – what child alive in the twenty-first century hadn't used, or at least seen, a games console?

Trip was speaking to the child's father, Derek, attempting to ascertain what exactly had happened forty years ago, without causing him more unnecessary pain. Trip was easy to talk to, something Phil had discovered pretty early on in their mission, and after only a few minutes together the two were each drinking a bottle of beer, sitting outside on the veranda in the late afternoon sun.

Phil and Jemma were in the kitchen, talking with his mother, Rose, about what it was that made her so confident this was her son.

"I wasn't sure to begin with" she was saying, a small smile on her face. "After all, how would it be possible? And then," she continued, "I watched him for a while. He looked the same, he sounded the same, and he acted the same. But I still had doubts."

"What made you certain?" Phil asked.

"He gave me a hug" she said softly, eyes glazing over as she ventured into a memory only she could envision. "And I could smell his hair… and I knew."

She smiled again, coming back to the two of them. "It might sound strange, but you never forget the smell of someone you love, what it feels like to have them in your arms."

Phil knew all too well what she meant, and swallowed hard.

"And there is nothing about him physically that is different? Jemma asked, her desperation for more information barely restrained. Phil was grateful she was still focused, because he was fighting back memories he didn't want right now.

"Exactly the same, right down to a mark he's had on his leg since the day he was born." She turned and pulled a photograph off the fridge, and the pair could see it was a much younger Adam. He was wearing shorts, and the mark was obvious.

"Would you mind if I had a look at his leg now?" Jemma asked quietly.

"Go ahead. He won't mind showing you; he was always trying to make people think he'd been bitten by a shark or something."

* * *

><p>A couple of hours later and they were all in the SUV once more, heading back to base in Washington. The week had flown by, but all were grateful to be at least able to spend tonight in their own beds, as opposed to a cheap hotel room. It was only due to the fact that the cases were all around neighbouring states (something they had linked together) that they were going back at all; usually they would remain in the field until it was all wrapped up. But Phil had a feeling that when he briefed Fury the next day about what they had found, or not found, so far, he would want to do it face to face.<p>

Fitzsimmons were quietly running over their thoughts in the back of the car, huddled over one of Skye's many laptop in the fading evening light. They logged the information from the Larson case, including the fact the birthmark on Adam's knee was identical. It was just like the other two cases. Everything about the individual was exact to how they were the day they died, as though nothing at all had ever happened to them.

The team collectively knew something big was going on, but not one could come up with any reasoning behind it.

As the night drew in, the car became silent, each person retreating into their minds, and wondering how the hell people could come back to life.

* * *

><p>"Coulson I need you to come to my office. Now."<p>

"What's happened?" The clock on his bedside table read almost 4am, and Phil immediately knew whatever was going on was serious. His phone had only roused him from a doze; he'd only been back in the flat for about two hours, it had taken a long time to actual get to sleep in the first place, his head spinning with what he'd seen that week, but the moment the call had come through he had been wide awake again.

"You….you need to see this."

"Sir, with respect could you at least give me an idea about what is going on?"

"Just….do it Phil." The line cut out, and Phil stared at the receiver. Fury had hung up on him. He'd been privy to that event many a time, but there had been something in his voice that sounded almost…panicked. And from what Phil knew, Nick Fury did not panic easily.

He climbed out of bed, throwing off the tee-shirt he'd been wearing to sleep in, and grabbed the button up he'd been wearing that day back off his chair. He tried to move quietly, but he knew the phone would have woken Audrey anyway. His thoughts were confirmed when he opened his draw to grab fresh underwear, and her bedside lamp was switched on.

"You're going in now?"

Phil looked up to find her watching him with an annoyed expression on her half-asleep face, and he sighed.

"Yes." He finished dressing himself and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"You literally just got back."

"I know," he replied, silently wishing she would understand how his job worked. "Fury won't tell me why, but I think it's something big."

"It's always something big" she mumbled, lying back down and facing away from him, reaching out to turn her lamp off again in the process.

Phil wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that. The conversation was clearly over, and after a few moments of silence, he shook his head, grabbed his jacket, and walked out.

* * *

><p>The morning air was cool around him, and the first birds were beginning to awaken, but Phil gave himself no time to appreciate either. Instead he practically ran into the building, and jabbed at the lift for the top floor.<p>

The elevator was far too slow for his liking, and the moment it stopped he was out. The light inside Fury's office was on, and as soon as he reached it Phil wasted no time in swinging the doors open without a knock.

Stepping inside however, he froze. It felt like all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out, and someone had punched him in the gut at the same time.

It took all his effort to make himself take a shaky step forwards. And then another. And then he found himself unable to move anymore.

Fury was stood behind his desk, and he was saying something, but Phil couldn't register a single word that was coming from his mouth. All his attention was focused on the person stood across from him.

The slender figure that was as familiar to him as his own. The leather jacket he'd bought for her 30th birthday despite her vehement protests at the price tag. The dark silken hair flowing across her shoulders he'd played with as she lay in his arms. The massive brown eyes that could see into his soul. The smooth skin he'd traced patterns into each night before they slept.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

She still smelled the same; that sweet and completely familiar scent of vanilla and orange washed over him as a slight breeze from the open window behind her blew hair around her face. He could remember the exact bottle her scented body wash used to be in, could see the marbled plastic of it sitting on one of those fancy curved shelves they'd installed next to the bath. She had liked them, thought they were artistic and reminded her of expensive hotel rooms. Phil hadn't really cared what the shelves looked like; simply knowing the two of them were building a home together had been his happiness, but after she'd gone, every time he saw them, or smelled vanilla or orange, he felt something inside him crack a little more.

Everything was spinning. She couldn't be here. It wasn't possible.

"Melinda?" he whispered.

"Phil."

She smiled softly at him in the way he'd fallen in love with almost twenty years ago, and his whole world shifted once more.

She was back.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think!<strong>


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